


Hunting Dreams

by Almadynis



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Predators (2010)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-06-27 20:44:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almadynis/pseuds/Almadynis
Summary: The Doctor's longtime companion, a Gallifreyan child, is kidnapped by the yautja. How would such impact the story?





	1. Chapter 1

**AN:** This is a one-shot with my character Nova from “Dreams May Come True”, a Doctor Who fanfiction. Reading “Dreams May Come True” is recommended to better establish Nova’s background, but is NOT necessary. This idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so finally had to write it down.

**AN2:** I have no beta, all mistakes are mine.

**Disclaimer:** The only thing that’s mine—other than the mistakes mentioned above—is Nova. All other characters I just wish to own, but belong to either Predators or Doctor Who.

+++++++++

Nova frowned as she thought she heard something behind her. Following her. Again. But, just like before, when she turned to look, she couldn’t see anything unusual. Just a standard night in London. She turned back forward to see the Doctor, his usual energetic self practically skipping to Clara’s door in order to retrieve the brunette governess.

The redhead whirled back around as she swore she heard a stick _snap_. There wasn’t anyone on the street that she could see. The TARDIS was a block away, sitting in the lamplight. Nova could feel the slight unhappiness of the ship in the back of her mind, because the ship knew they were picking up Clara and the ship still held a grudge against the brunette companion.

However, other than the blue box on the corner, Nova couldn’t see anything else. It was after nine in the evening, so most people were already at home. Lights were on in the various houses, casting dancing shadows. A car or two had come by, late for dinner.

Nothing unusual as far as she could see. Narrowing her eyes, trying to see whatever was there to keep making such a racket, didn’t do any good. No cats, dogs, rabbits, or even squirrels could have made the noise. The birds were all bedded down for the night as well, so she didn’t hear them chirping.

It felt eerie. Calm, yet tense. The wind played with the leaves above her head, rustling a melody.

She couldn’t _see_ anything…but she couldn’t shake the unmistakable feeling of being watched. The hair on the back of her neck and arms were stiff. Like it had gotten whenever the Master had watched her all those years ago.

Nova looked back to where the Doctor had disappeared inside Clara’s house, ready to dart after him as her heart hammered in her ears. The panic and fear urging her to find safety.

Her foot came forward…

…… _and she was falling!_

Nova screamed in terror as actual _clouds_ rushed by her head. But the air was going by so quickly she could barely hear herself, urging her to yell louder.

Her mathematical mind idly catalogued details as she fell, even as she screamed.

She was wearing the exact same outfit as before, which she supposed could be counted as a plus—no one had undressed her. But she was also wearing some kind of harness around her middle, similar to a high-tech parachute. It had a red light in the center that she tried to hit several times to deploy the chute, but no such luck. However, as the seconds passed—and she ran out of air to yell—the red light blinked in an ever-increasing pulse. Like a countdown or timer.

The wind made it impossible to hear her whimper of fear.

Just as the cloud cover disappeared to be replaced with greenery, the red light pulsed almost constantly and automatically deployed the parachute. It was more triangular than anything else, but what did she know of parachutes? She travelled in a time machine, not out of aircraft!

Whatever type of chute it happened to be, or from what species, was superfluous at the moment. It did its job of decelerating her and she was eternally grateful to the designer.

She landed on the forest floor. It was extremely hot and even more humid. She started to sweat immediately. The bushes and foliage were interesting, but unassuming. The trees were taller than any she had ever seen, though she did recognize the smell in the air. It rained here often.

“Where am I? The Amazon?” she whispered to herself, looking around in amazement. For all the fear she had experienced in the last few minutes, it was beautiful here.

“Maybe.”

Nova gave a surprised yell, spinning in place to face the newcomer. A female, pointing a weapon at her. The other woman was really pretty, even with her dark brown hair matted to her head with sweat. Nova bet she would even be beautiful if the woman smiled, which she didn’t.

Her voice was matter-of-fact as she kept speaking to the redhead. “It’s too humid for this time of year for Africa or Asia. And the topography’s all wrong.”

Nova stared at the barrel of the rifle in fear. “Can you stop pointing that at me?” She waited a beat. “Please?” When the gun lowered slightly, she continued hesitantly with, “Do you know where we are?”

“I don’t recognize this jungle. And I’ve been in most.”

“I’m Nova,” the girl offered.

“Isabelle.” A heartbeat after she answered, the brunette swung her rifle up again and around, pointing it at a new male, who stared at the pair of them implacably.

He raised his hands in a pseudo-surrender, showing black fingerless gloves. “Easy,” his tenor was gravely, or possibly just hoarse from screaming on his own way down. He wore an outfit designed to blend into a temperate environment, beige-y green shirt and black fatigue-looking pants. His brown hair was very short, a bit of a scruffy beard, and his hazel eyes held so much weight to them Nova wondered if he had lost count of how many people he’d killed. He had some type of really big gun on his back, ammunition in a holder-vest across his chest, and she could see two knives on him; one under his left armpit and another strapped to his ankle. She also could see a handgun at his left hip. Skinny and muscular, he was definitely a soldier. Or had been.

With him were two more obvious males. One was definitely a soldier. Scandinavian descent by his bone structure. He looked stocky and he carried some weapon that probably weighed as much as she did. However, when Nova looked into his eyes, they were surprisingly gentle. Scared, certainly. But those blue depths held a gentleness in dissention with his large form.

The other man may not be a soldier, but the scars across his face definitely announced him as dangerous. Extremely so. He had two guns. Automatics maybe? His appearance was more toward South American Latino.

“You want to lower the weapon?” The first one spoke again.

Nova took a step back, half hiding behind Isabelle as the older woman shook her head. She listened as Isabelle repeated what she had already told the redhead when the man asked. “I saw more parachutes.”

“Which way?” The first one seemed to be doing all the talking for the triad of males.

“Why?” Nova countered softly from behind the woman, drawing the full attention of the others. She wanted to squeak in protest, only barely holding herself silent. She was only 67! It was normal to be scared when someone was only 67, right? She wasn’t a coward. Okay, maybe a coward…

He stepped forward, causing Isabelle to re-aim her rifle, but he didn’t seem disturbed by it. His manner was confrontational, yet calm. The only evidence of his anger was in his eyes and his voice. “So I can figure out who threw me out of a fucking airplane.”

Isabelle seemed to take him at his word, sort of. She indicated with her chin the direction. He took it and set off, the other two behind him.

+++++HUNTING++DREAMS+++++

Isabelle looked at the woman beside her and wondered how odd it was to see her. The redhaired girl, perhaps in her mid- to late-twenties, was a little on the skinny side, but obviously a runner of some type. Her physique and attire matched such pursuits with the blue jeans and black sneakers. Her loose purple blouse though was both stylish and pretty. It wasn’t made for anything athletic. And the denim jacket was for a far colder climate than their current surroundings, much less extended exercise.

The main feature though were the girl’s vivid blue-purple eyes that seemed to see way more than the surface. However her attitude was more scared civilian, frightened at every sound.

The male fighters certainly hadn’t helped settle the girl.

And also, no matter how old this ‘Nova’ appeared to be, Isabelle couldn’t stop herself from thinking of her as a ‘girl’. A child. A teen at most. Isabelle wasn’t able to put a finger on the reason either, but instinctively knew she was more correct than not. Long ago she had learned to trust her instincts.

Isabelle acknowledged to herself that she had a duty to protect the innocent, of which Nova qualified. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself. She angled her face towards the girl and spoke in a louder voice to be heard, “Stay close.”

The auburn head nodded seriously and emphatically as the pair of females began to follow the group of males. In only a few steps though, Nova sucked in a sharp breath, tugged her sleeve, and said in a fierce whisper, “Behind us.”

Isabelle turned without question to see an Asian male in a pale blue suit watching them. She identified two slight bulges, giving away his shoulder holster. If she didn’t know what to look for, she’d have missed them. It was a well-made bespoke suit.

When he stepped forward to follow the little trail they had made, she watched as he gave a resigned expression, glaring down at his feet. They were dress shoes. Definitely not for the jungle as she could see they had sunk nearly an inch each into the mud. She kept going as he bent down to pull them off, untying the laces.

Isabelle looked over at the redhead with a raised eyebrow. “How did you know?”

Nova returned her gaze with a small shrug. “I heard him.”

Isabelle didn’t want to call the girl a liar, but how could she have possibly heard him?! Isabelle had been trained and was on high-alert given the situation, yet even she hadn’t heard him!

It was something else that didn’t quite add up with the redhead.

+++++HUNTING++DREAMS+++++

Nova listened intently as Isabelle, and the newly named Royce—the self-appointed leader—discussed what they remembered. Apparently, all of the members of their merry little band woke up in freefall with no memory of being captured or transported. Just like her own memory.

And so far all of them were dangerous. Fighters and soldiers. She wasn’t sure about the Asian, but his eyes had held a dead-calm even in this scenario. Since she knew her own periwinkle orbs had to be holding a large dose of scared panic, she figured he qualified. Well, his eyes and the sword handle she could see.

Nova’s ears perked up when Royce commented on Isabelle being I.D.F. Nova swallowed, but she couldn’t help but ask, “What’s that?”

The two paused to look at her, then kept going. Royce a second faster than the other woman. Isabelle was the one who answered. “Israeli Defensive Forces.”

Nova nodded her understanding—even though she really didn’t—and Isabelle kept moving. Nova made sure to stay close, but behind, the woman, as they came across two more males.

These were obviously fighters because they were currently doing their best to beat each other, possibly to death.

One was a large African; his accent giving him away. The other was more concerning with his stereotypical prison-orange jumpsuit proclaiming ‘San Quentin’. He was also swearing a lot. Enough to make her wonder if his IQ was low enough he just didn’t know that many curse words. That or it was a habit. He grabbed a nearby branch and held it above his head, ready to bash the African male’s head in when he noticed them. “You with him?” he half-yelled due to exertion.

Isabelle wasn’t having any of it and gave a nonplussed reply, “No.” She didn’t even have her gun pointed at them. But her eyes and face were tight as she had observed the fisticuffs. Ready to move if it became required.

The African used the jumpsuit’s inattention to get the upper hand. The two carefully got to their feet. Nova thought it almost looked like they were facing off to go again. “Then why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

Nova really had to admire how Isabelle just wasn’t showing much emotion in her voice. “We have bigger problems right now.” Though she could see the barely held contempt and scorn in the other woman’s body language, there for any who knew how to look.

“Okay, boss.” The convict nodded. “Whatever you say.” Then his eyes flicked to Nova and she ducked behind Isabelle as the look in his eyes made her want to run. His were more filled with lust than aggression, but given her age, she’d avoid him all the same.

The bigger African grabbed the jumpsuit by the collar and hissed in his face, “I will finish what you started.” Then he forcibly pushed the convict away from him.

“Strength in numbers, huh?” The convict asked breathlessly.

Isabelle answered again. Seemed she and Royce were the leaders of the little party as it was. “Something like that.” Nova didn’t really mind the leadership so far. Though she wished with every fiber of her being that the Doctor would find her quickly. Her connection to the TARDIS should give him at least a vague direction to follow. Hopefully.

“Okay. Then maybe we should get that guy out of the fucking tree.” He pointed over to the right with his thumb. As Nova stayed close to Isabelle’s back, so she was closer to the convict since the older woman moved towards where he had indicated. Which meant that she physically jerked and darted out and over to Royce when the convict said almost conversationally, “I’m Stans.”

Royce simply looked at his new tag-along, glanced at Stans, gave one stern shake of his head, and motioned Nova ahead of him. The redhead took half a second before giving Royce a brilliant smile and going forward. He may have lost count of those he had killed, but there was still some honor in his soul. Not as much as the Doctor had—who had also lost count of the amount of blood on his hands—but it was still present. His actions spoke louder than his words.

She shivered as the felon yelled after her, “Hey! I was just being nice!”

The group came across a pond of water, above which was a man hanging upside down, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Help me! Help! I’m trapped in a fucking tree!”

What was with all these people cussing? Didn’t they know other words? Or was it just stress? Nova could understand stress. But seriously, the amount was starting to grate on her nerves. If they were really feeling such, couldn’t they curse instead? Some of the Chinese and Arabian curses were quite inventive.

“Stop that. You’re breaking the branch.” Isabelle told him.

Nova saw that the other woman was right. “Can’t you cut yourself down?” she asked, trying to be helpful. After all, all these other people had guns and/or knives. Chances were he did too.

“What? No.” He seemed almost affronted at her suggestion. “Do something!” he demanded.

Nova giggled when Royce immediately shot the branch, dropping the man into the water below. “You were taking too long,” Royce explained at Isabelle’s expression. He noted the redhead’s amusement and felt a small inward warmth, but knew nothing showed in his outward expression. He also had enough previous experience to warn him away from trusting first instincts, no matter who inspired them. The only person he could truly trust was himself.

“Help! Help!” The new man said as he floundered in the pond.

Nova blinked at him in surprise. “Stand up, silly.” She could see the depth of the small pond from where she was easily, given the light bouncing through the leaves above.

He did as he was told and seemed to blush. “Oh.” He was soaked to the bone now, but his outfit was very casual. A dark hooded jumper, tan shirt, and jeans. “I’m a doctor. Edwin.” He introduced himself as he pulled out a pair of glasses.

When he was fully upright, Nova couldn’t help herself. She took a step backward, her nearest hand coming up to grab Royce’s lower arm and squeezing in sharp warning. Her wide eyes never left Edwin as he climbed out of the pond.

+++++HUNTING++DREAMS+++++

Royce’s eyes flicked down at the girl with his same implacable expression. Her entire form was tense with terror. All of which was aimed at the doctor. His eyes went over to the older woman’s, who tilted her head slightly to acknowledge she had noticed.

The girl was definitely odd. She didn’t fit. Which was part of the reason he wanted to keep the girl close. Watch her.

All of the group were fighters of some sort. Except for her. And the doctor. He didn’t fit either. Yet, the short unarmed female was afraid of him most of all. She had taken in the others with only a small wariness, sticking close to Isabelle as well as Royce himself. However this new man, this doctor, absolutely terrified her…

As if the doctor’s name was a trigger, all of the others began to introduce themselves. As if Royce cared. It didn’t matter. He ignored them as much as possible as he focused on the more important task.

The Russian had already said his name, but did it again. Tapping his chest, “I’m Nikolai.” The South American was Cuchillo. The Asian Hanzo. Mombasa the African.

“What about you, little girl?” Nikolai asked almost gently.

+++++HUNTING++DREAMS+++++

Of the group so far—and she was really starting to hope that this was it, there were enough dangerous people already!—Nova felt that only four of them could be trusted even a little. In order they were Isabelle, Royce, Nikolai, and Mombasa. And she wasn’t 100% certain about any of them other than Isabelle.

“Nova.” She said it anyway, because they all had.

Royce looked at her with his same implacable expression. She wondered if he always looked like that, or only in emergency situations. “You didn’t say what you remember.”

She shrugged carelessly. “I was in London. I felt something watching me, but I couldn’t see them. Heard something behind me. I turned to look… then I was falling.” She then noticed that Hanzo had stopped and was staring at something, making her frown in confusion. She didn’t want to say the cliché ‘what are you looking at?’, so instead broke from her place beside Royce and moved towards Hanzo instead.

When she was close enough, she couldn’t help the small gasp as she caught sight of what was worthy of staring.

A _really_ large four-sided pillar-esque thingie was set in the ground. As wide at the base as her spread arms, tilted at an approximate 27.5 degree angle to the horizon about six inches above her head, tapering to a sharp point. It was also old enough that vines and moss were growing on it, from base to point.

But that wasn’t the bad part. Oh no.

At the base were human skulls. _Lots_ of skulls. Bloody. Some still had bits of hair and entrails on them. There were other bones too. She thought she could identify several tibia. One ulna. A scapula. More than a few femurs.

She had to swallow several times in an attempt to avoid being sick.

“What is that?” Stans and Edwin asked almost simultaneously. She hadn’t even noticed when the others had joined her.

Isabelle’s voice held more emotion than she had heard before. “Who would do this?”

Nova tried to push aside her disgust. She recognized the African accent. “Whoever did this takes trophies.” There was a pause. “In my culture, the warrior with the greatest trophies commands the most respect.”

“Narrows it down,” Nova muttered to herself, though she didn’t bother trying to be quiet. She could feel their eyes on her as she stepped forward, swallowing several more times against the smell, trying to push away the knowledge of where such bones had come from. She moved to the furthest non-pointy end of the monolith, where there weren’t many ‘trophies’, and got as close as she could. Stepping carefully to avoid the bones.

Close enough to touch the swirly patterns in the pillar. “It’s not metal,” she narrated her identification. “At least none that I’ve ever seen.” And as a student of the Doctor for the last fourty-three years, that was definitely saying something. Not that she would mention it.

“Copper ages like that. Green.” Isabelle commented.

“Doesn’t smell like copper,” Nova countered. She resisted the desire to lick her fingers, since it was something the Doctor would do. Her heart ached, wanting her friend/mentor/teacher/foster-father. Her fingertips followed the swirls with a frown as she pushed her emotions to the side. “It’s not writing.” Writing would have…trans…lated… “Oh Rassilon!” This time it was a scared whisper that escaped her as she half-turned to face the others, stumbling back several steps, only to be stopped by a tree at her back. Its presence kept her upright as her mind spun.

They all frowned at her in various degrees of confusion, disbelief, and concern. Isabelle was the one that came toward her. “Nova, what’s wrong?”

“Other than the obvious?” Stans chipped in sarcastically.

+++++HUNTING++DREAMS+++++

Nova was almost hyperventilating as she realized what was wrong. She had noticed immediately, but it didn’t occur to her exactly what was the cause because so _many_ things were wrong all at once. Now that she had noticed, she couldn’t believe she had missed it.

The TARDIS was far away. _So very far away!_

Nova had always had a unique connection to the Doctor’s ship, since birth. It was how she dreamt of the Doctor every night. She could feel her in her mind, communicate to some degree. Emotions and images mostly. It was one of the aspects specific to her Gallifreyan House—at least according to the Doctor, who had been training her ever since she had become his ward after the Year That Never Was.

By genetic identifiers, the Doctor said Nova was naturally 25% Gallifreyan from her paternal grandfather. When the Master experimented on her, attempting to make her genetically compatible enough to carry Time Lord offspring, he had increased her Gallifreyan genetics to 52%.

One of the side effects was her telepathic connection to the TARDIS became tighter than ever. She always felt the ship in the back of her mind. Like an old friend, a big sister, or a mother depending on the time machine's mood and occasion.

Now, even while concentrating, Nova could barely feel the ship. That comforting presence far enough away the closest she could compare it to was a photograph. Instead of tasting a lovely bite of chocolate raspberry cheesecake, all Nova had was a picture of one. She whimpered at the loss.

When she looked up, she saw Isabelle giving her a very worried expression and realized that the other woman had probably been calling her for a minute or more.

Nova didn’t know how to explain, but did the best she could. “I’ve never been so alone,” she whispered. Not for years. Not for _decades_.

Isabelle frowned harder, her forehead creasing. “You’re not alone.” She gestured with one hand to the seven others. Thinking perhaps it was a matter of gender or honor, Isabelle whispered gently, “I won’t leave you.” She made sure to do so out of the hearing of the others, knowing the rest of the group could see her promise as a weakness to exploit.

Nova shook her head, eyes morose. “You don’t understand.”

“We’ve got bigger problems. Let’s head out.” Royce called, knowing that they needed to get to higher ground. In most conflicts, those that controlled the high ground won.

As they moved through the forest, Nova barely heard as the eight discussed whether the whole thing was a test of some sort. A ransom. An experiment. Drugs. Each was shot down with a logical reason against. Apparently several had been in combat at the time of their abductions.

“This is hell,” Cuchillo determined with grave finality. His thinking that they had died during battle and this was their punishment.

“Last time I checked, you don’t need a parachute to get there.” Isabelle’s quick response made Nova choke on a giggle, shaking her out of her misery enough to focus again. “And I’ve never done anything really extra bad to go to hell,” Nova added her own two cents. While she had been present during several incidents that involved genocide, she’d never done it herself. The Doctor had always kept her safe, as adjacent to the violence as he could have her. Even from making the tough decisions to kill a few to same many.

“It doesn’t matter what happened, or why.” Royce countered, turning on them abruptly. “The only question is, how do we get out?” He turned back around and once again began to lead the group.

Nova made sure to stick close to him, Isabelle on her heels. Isabelle asked where he was going, saying they should stick together.

Nova didn’t pause her steps. She was going to follow Royce. She trusted Isabelle more, but Nova knew a warrior when she saw one. She’d met several species that gloried in battle. Even if she meant nothing to the man, if she stayed close enough to him, he would defend her by association when someone attacked him.

Nova wanted to say that who had done this to them was a good question, because it would determine how to get out, but she kept her mouth shut. These people were all humans. None of them held any insignia of UNIT or Torchwood, so their reactions to ‘aliens’ would be nebulous at best.

Not to mention what they would possibly do to _her_. Humans were terrifying when scared!

Nova turned though when she heard Latin.

“Yup. _Archaefructus liaoningensis._ Very poisonous.” Edwin said as he put a small scalpel in the center of a yellow spikey flower. Some type of slime came with the blade as he pulled it back. “All it would take was one scratch to cause total paralysis.” The spines reacted slightly, curling inward to capture what the plant perceived as a juicy snack.

“Thank you. I’ll look out for you—“ Nikolai was interrupted by Nova herself. The girl was glaring at the bespeckled man. “I thought you said you didn’t have something you could cut yourself down with.”

He met her gaze calmly. “I forgot about it.”

“Why are you carrying around a scalpel?” she shot back at him.

“I’m a doctor.”

“Not even the best Doctor in the universe habitually carries around surgical implements.” Well, that wasn’t true. His bigger-on-the-inside pockets let him carry around whatever he liked. However, he didn’t have such primitive medical supplies. And he hated standard weaponry. Though one could argue that a scalpel didn’t qualify as ‘standard weaponry’. Still, she felt sure that the Doctor did _not_ have a scalpel—much less a folding one!—in his massively deep pockets.

+++++HUNTING++DREAMS+++++

Nova stuck close to Royce. Perhaps a step or two behind. After running after the Doctor for the last fourty plus years, it wasn’t that difficult to keep up. Now that they were on a rock plateau of sorts, it was even easier. Even with the divots filled with water every which-a-way.

However, she was apparently the only one who was thinking along those lines because she turned when she heard Isabelle’s, “Hey, we need to rest.”

Royce didn’t even pause. “So rest.”

“You look like you could use it too.” She said, sounding winded. When she saw that the man wasn’t going to stop, she finally mentioned her clincher. “You wanna see something fucked up?”

Nova watched intently as the IDF soldier—member? agent?—carefully put a pin in a leaf and set it in one of the many puddles. All three of them observed as the leaf went round and round and round. It was supposed to be a bushman’s compass, aligning with magnetic north and south. The whirly-bird routine shouldn’t be happening.

“Narrows it down,” Nova whispered. A good hundred planets had just been shot down expertly as possibilities, while also shoving humans definitely off the list of assaulters/abductors. Well, assuming that the race doing the kidnapping weren’t a time-travelling variety that abducted fighters from only one era of the past, admittedly very low probability, all members of their group being from the twenty-first century. Around 2010 if her nose was correct. (Though admittedly, she was still shaky on that aspect of her education. Her last test on the subject, she’d made an 83.)

Royce either was ignoring her, or hadn’t heard her. He just watched the leaf spin before looking up at the sky. “Well, between that and the sun, I’d say we have a real problem.”

“What’s wrong with the sun?” Isabelle asked.

Nova answered instead, startling them both. “It hasn’t moved.”

The two looked at her. Isabelle was the one who voiced the question both had been contemplating for the last several hours. “Who _are_ you?”

Nova sighed, shaking her head. “I’m the odd one out.” She jerked her head at Royce, because she knew he had noticed.

Isabelle focused on him, and he nodded. He counted off as he observed the other resting members of their rag-tag group. “Spetsnaz, Alpha Group. Los Zeta, cartel enforcer. R.U.F., Sierra Leone death squad. Yakuza, Inagawa-kai. Former F.B.I.’s Most Wanted. You. And...him.” He looked away, towards the opposite horizon. “They are all heavy hitters. Edwin and Nova don’t belong.”

Nova shook her head instantly, contradicting him. “No, he belongs.” They refocused on her. “I know that you can’t see it, but _I can._ Don’t turn your back on him. Not ever. Don’t trust him.” She shivered. “I’ll take any of the others over him. At least they aren’t trying to hide what they are.”

“What about you?” Isabelle asked. The question made even Royce stop.

The redhead shook her head again. “I’m not dangerous. I _know_ people who are dangerous. One in particular more than the others, but I myself am not. I don’t belong.”

“Belong to what?”

“This group. We were all chosen. ‘For what’ is the question.” Nova said softly. Suddenly the others were startled when Nova’s head jerked up and to the left as she became aware of something. A split second later, the whole group jumped as a sonic BOOOOOM! echoed over their heads, gaining all of their attention.

Royce wanted to know how the redhead had noticed before himself, knowing how good he was. Good enough that he had been the only one to keep his feet when the shock wave had hit them, though he had only barely been able. It shouldn’t have been possible for a little know-nothing civilian, one who hadn’t been able to keep her feet and carried no weapons, to notice first. Yet he couldn’t deny the evidence. She had clearly been reacting to whatever had entered their area. Had she seen it crossing in front of her field of vision, since she was facing the other direction? Unlikely, but possible.

Isabelle was remembering when the girl—for she couldn’t help but keep thinking of the other woman as a child—had heard the Japanese ‘businessman’ Hanzo when Isabelle herself hadn’t. The IDF agent took this extra bit as proof positive that the redhead had extraordinary hearing.

“Aircraft?” the African accent gave away who had hesitantly offered an explanation.

The Russian answered, “Had to be military to be so low. Landing close.”

Royce just set off again, intent on finding whomever had invaded their space, going fast enough to catch even him off guard. He didn’t say anything, as he thought his ‘companions’ constant need to state the obvious was idiotic. Their constant talking was giving away their position. He’d be inclined to shoot them to shut them up, but he didn’t have enough information yet to know if he would be getting rid of extra weight, or losing a valuable resource.

+++++HUNTING++DREAMS+++++

Royce was hacking away at the underbrush when he finally spotted something. He used military hand signs to tell them all to stop and get down. Honestly, Nova had no idea what he was trying to say, she just followed Isabelle’s lead and mirrored the Israeli’s movements.

She peeked around the tall man to see a large crate with a beige tarpaulin over it; its door hanging by only the top pivot, hinged open. She could tell that even with the tarp blocking the view of the inside. As the others went forward to see what could be in the box, she stayed back, letting them do their thing.

She did notice that the box was—relatively—empty. Sections of some type of organic matter was stuck to the walls and floor. Nova also scrunched up her face as several bugs crawled out. “Doesn’t narrow it down at all.” The bug was the most common variety of cockroach in the entire universe, across a dozen galaxies at this time frame. The generic standard crate itself was just as unhelpful, used in at least six galaxies that she knew of; its color, design, and size all very standard for shipping anything from material parts to animals.

Of course, she was also going on the assumption that she had only been moved to another planet, based on the other’s clothing and speech patterns, instead of also being transported through time. There weren’t many species that could time travel. And all of them should know well and good to leave the Doctor’s companions alone! Heck, with what happened at Demon’s Run, she thought that it had been enough of a warning even the Cybermen would stay away!

Of course, that had occurred in the fifty-fourth century, come to think of it…

“You said we were chosen.” Isabelle looked over at Nova, who met her gaze without hesitation despite her tumultuous thoughts. “You figure out for what yet?”

“Oh shit.” Stans voiced vehemently, interrupting Nova’s head shake. He was eyeing the trees above their heads.

Nova did the same, as well as the others, and swiftly counted. “I got nine.”

“Nine?” Royce asked without inflection.

She pointed to each one she had spotted. Once you knew what to look for, it wasn’t difficult. “…Seven. Eight.” She pointed back at the one which had originally drawn their attention. “Nine.” She blinked as she saw another way off in the distance that she had previously missed. “Ten.”

“I’m starting to wonder about you, girl.” Stans said. “You’re weird as shit.”

She shrugged. She had been called worse. “I’m still the only one in this party that doesn’t have a weapon of any kind.”

“With those eyes of yours, doubt you need one.”

Nova blinked at him, not sure what to make of his statement. After a second she said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” At least she thought it was one. Or supposed to be one.

+++++HUNTING++DREAMS+++++

They were—still!—walking along when Mombasa tripped on a root.

Nova frowned in confusion as a vine suddenly snapped up on the ground by the African’s head. Then a giant log lifted into the air to their left. “Get down!” someone yelled, and she was pushed to the side.

Everyone seemed to scatter in various directions as they tried to escape the trap.

Nova’s eyes were drawn to the treetops as sharpened spikes came down right in front of her. Striking the ground hard enough to bury half their length.

As the student of the Doctor for over four decades, Nova had been trained on many topics. One of the first was timing. She still didn’t have the knack of knowing what year she was in just by tasting the air, but when it came to a pulse, or following a patterned metronome, she had mastered the subject. She had always found them fun actually. It was like dancing.

So when faced with a timed trap of dropping sharpened spikes, Nova naturally fell into the mindset where the world around her shifted as things seemed to slow around her. As if the earth itself was drawing breath and she could feel it in the air. Feel everything go through her at a bone-deep level. She saw the next one drop ever so leisurely, taking its time.

Like a player in a choreographed production, Nova glided out of the way. Again. And again. And again. Twirling in place, her feet gracefully guiding her through the leaves, unconcerned with the lethal danger. For a few of them, mere millimeters from making contact, letting her feel the breeze of their passing. She smiled in exhilaration at the exercise.

Over and over until they stopped falling. She still couldn’t estimate time with pinpoint accuracy, nor know when she was. But when it came to tracking objects… No, she had no problems.

When the spikes stopped, it _did_ take Nova a few seconds to recognize the end of the game and her mind to again shift back into a more normal speed. Though she did turn at the awed accented, “How did you do that?” Wonder and fear in those brown eyes.

She knew that telling him the truth would probably be bad. So she settled for a different kind of truth, “My guardian taught me.” Considering that they had been kidnapped by aliens—she knew that Royce had figured it out or at least suspected, though she wasn’t sure about the others—then admitting that she was slightly more than half non-human probably wasn’t the best way to go.

Mombasa didn’t look like he believed her, but he didn’t keep asking either. After a few moments, he nodded incrementally. “Must be special.”

Nova grinned, still full of happy adrenaline. “He is.” There was no other like the Doctor in the entire universe…and there never would be. Even among his own people, the Doctor had been unique. Uniquely good or uniquely bad was a matter of opinion.

The rest of the group was over by a decaying corpse, doing the best analysis a group of mercenaries, mafia, and soldiers could. It wasn’t bad. Using their group experiences to outline an idea of what had occurred. A dead man’s trap set by a Navy SEAL and the man’s quarry had at most five times less mass than the half a tree trunk that had fallen on Mombasa.

Nova did some quick estimations and calculations in her head to get a rough guess. Before she had come into the world of her dreams, before the Year That Never Was, she had been in her last year of a Master’s degree in Mathematics. Numbers and timing was easy for her. Logic and reason had been trained into her. It was everything else that she had difficulty understanding.

She spoke her reasoning aloud, wondering at her numbers. She’d never been comfortable estimating anything, preferring exact concrete calculations. So she deliberately over-estimated and hoped it would be enough. “Assuming an average hardwood density of 0.75, and given the diameter and length for a rough volume of approximately 1700 cubic meters, based on the length and width, with pi at 3.14, then I get a conservative estimate of about 1275 kilograms total mass.”

She bit her lip, staring at the deadfall to re-gauge her estimates on length and width several times, as she continued absently, not noticing how she was suddenly the center of attention again. “If a deadfall is, as Royce said, supposed to be five times that of the target, then that makes what he was hoping to trap approximately 255 kilograms.” That definitely narrowed down the list of potential species, given what she already knew, from a several dozen to only a handful, with fingers left over. There just weren’t that many species with the capabilities of space travel, invisibility, warrior/hunter societal structure, and that large a mass. Much better!

“What’s that in English?” Stans asked.

“Five hundred sixty pounds,” Royce answered quietly. His eyes were boring into Nova’s, who blushed with embarrassment and shrunk back a step as she was startled out of her thoughts. Finally he asked, “How much leeway are we talking?”

Nova contemplated the deadfall again and tugged on her braid. “At least one order of magnitude? Give or take?” Her voice conveyed how hesitant she was to even give that much of an answer. She _really_ didn’t like estimating.

“English?” Stans demanded again, exasperated.

“Fifty-six pounds,” she blinked at the man in confusion. While she understood not knowing the conversion between pounds and kilograms, she had thought she had been much more clear with her second answer. She had actually been aware of them listening to her about halfway through and had catered her response with that in mind. Or she thought she had. In an effort to be even more clear, if it was needed, she kept going after a couple seconds. “So the target was approximately between 504 and 616 pounds, or between 230 and 281 kilograms.” Well, with an insanely uncomfortable amount of rounding error, but it was as good as she could get out here without even something to write with! Not to mention all the assumptions she had done for length and guess at the density of the wood… “Probably more.” She couldn’t help but add the last, knowing just how much guessing she had truly done. “And that’s mass, not weight.” If they didn’t understand orders of magnitude, maybe it was good to also mention that bit?

“What?” Stans was staring at her, but they all were. He was just being the loudest about his thoughts. “What does that even _mean_?”

Isabelle and Royce were looking at her seriously, understanding more than the others. Royce was more focused on what her calculations actually meant though, while Isabelle was wondering what kind of life the girl before them had led to enable her to perform such feats.

“So…” Royce looked up at the tree in which the deadfall had lay in waiting. “Did the target animal weigh more than he thought…? Or was it smart enough to avoid the trap?” he muttered mostly to himself. “Got past the trip wires…to do this.” He again looked at the two-weeks-dead Special Forces officer, whose chest had been _ripped_ open. Strength had done that.

“If it had weighed more, that means that the trap would’ve already been sprung when we got here.” Nova commented hesitantly, “Right?” Which left enough intelligence and training to avoid a hidden trap, created by a trained professional.

Royce reorganized his mind to accept the data he had been given. They still had to find a way out of this jungle. “Let’s move.” Over any revenge he wanted to obtain—and he certainly wanted that!—his first priority was survival. Food and water being at the top of the list, then shelter. Getting back to some type of civilization would obtain all of the above.

The rest began to follow behind him obediently, including Nova, but she paused when she realized that the black man was staring intently at something. Almost as if he was too afraid to move. She blinked. “Mombasa?” she asked softly. When he didn’t answer her immediately, she followed his gaze to the trees… _up_ _in_ the trees. In the canopy.

At her side, she heard as Isabelle came up to the pair of them. “What is it?” she asked in a small semblance concern. She still wasn’t sure if Nova was someone to be concerned _for_ or be concerned _of_. She tried to follow the pair’s eyes, tracking what they both were seeing.

Nova’s eyes tracked along the canopy until she saw what the African had already found and froze. “Rassilon above,” she whispered. It was huge. She already knew intellectually its approximate mass, but the reality was quite different. Even a shimmer in the air gave her dimensions. “That certainly narrows it down.”

Isabelle looked at the redhead. “Who is Rassilon? Narrows down what?”

Nova swallowed and knew her eyes were full of fear. “I know who took us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**+++++HUNTING++DREAMS++PART 2+++++**

Isabelle turned to the others, who hadn’t moved too far away. “Royce! You need to hear this!”

Obedient, but obviously irritated (though he rarely showed any other expression) Royce came back and looked between the three. “What?”

Nova swallowed and repeated herself. “I know who took us.”

“What?! Why haven’t you said?” Stans yelled.

“I only just figured it out. There’s a lot of possibilities to go through.” Nova defended herself. “Capable of mid-high technology, including invisibility and space travel. Hunter/Warrior society or culture. And the deadfall gave me approximate mass, but I was estimating everything when I did those calculations—0.75 is only the average for _most_ planets, not all of them!—and, and I didn’t use a measuring tape for length, width, or diameter, and if I had been even _a little_ off, then it would’ve gotten everything wrong, because it was all based on that, and what if I needed four or five decimals of pi instead of two? And who knows what else needed more exact numbers and it was only an estimation and—”

“Alright, alright. Calm down.” Royce interrupted the girl, holding up a hand to stop the babble. “Calm down.” With his other hand, he grabbed the girl’s shoulder and shook her slightly, though not harshly, to help get her out of her panic. He didn’t know what else to do that might help. He had next to no experience helping civilians calm down. He was usually the reason they were panicking.

Isabelle had also gone to the girl’s side and used one arm to hold Nova, giving comfort. “Shhhh…breathe. Breathe. It’s alright. I’m sure your numbers were fine. Breathe. That’s it.”

Nova took deep breaths under the pair’s instructions, nodding when she finally got a hold of herself. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You good?” She nodded at Royce’s gruff question. “Good. Now, tell us what you figured out.”

She took another breath, then looked up into the trees. Scanning for the tell-tale shimmer in the air, but seeing none, she looked back at the others. “They call themselves the Yautja, but most call them Hunters or Predators.”

“Why?” Cuchillo asked with an upward chin twitch.

Nova shrugged. “It’s what they do. Their whole society is built upon the principles of hunting and honor.”

Nikolai was next, “What honor is there in kidnapping others?” To which Cuchillo glared at him, as kidnapping and ransom was a way of life in his part of the world.

Nova looked uncomfortable. “Their honor system is both simple and complex. As to why they took you all, it’s because you are warriors and predators yourselves.” She gave them all an apologetic expression. “They want to hunt you…as worthy game.”

“There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.” Royce said.

Isabelle looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “That’s pretty poetic. Did you come up with that all by yourself?”

“Ernest Hemingway said that, actually,” Nova corrected. “In ‘On the Blue Water’. He was one of the first American snipers.” She gave a soft sad smile as she thought of the man. “He was nice to me, in a gruff sort of way. Good at chess.”

The others looked at her. Stans was the one who said what they were thinking. “You’re one crazy bitch.” Then he grinned. “The crazy ones are the best.”

Nova gave a soft squeak, stepping closer to Isabelle and Royce. The other woman redirected the conversation. “What else can you tell us about these ya-oot-ja?” she pronounced the word carefully.

The redhead shrugged. “What else do you want to know? I can tell you lots, but I’m not sure that much of it is relevant to our situation.”

Edwin looked at her and cleaned his glasses again. “How do you know all this?”

“My guardian taught me all the major races I could run into, or that were really dangerous, first. Made me memorize their characteristics, society, everything. Just in case.”

“You said space travel.” Royce said suddenly, recalling a detail she’d mentioned. “So when you say ‘major races’, what you really mean is…” he prompted.

Nova winced, but nodded. “Ummm…yeah. Yautja are one of many non-terrestrial lifeforms.”

“What?” Stans grouched. “English, bitch!”

“Aliens. They’re aliens.” Edwin translated. “As in, from another planet.”

Nova nodded again, looking at Royce and Isabelle. Both of whom noted how she kept Edwin in her sight, but pretended he didn’t say anything most of the time. The redhead really didn’t like him. “I think I can get a message to someone who might be able to help us, but I need to know where we are. Which planet.”

Royce watched her, linking the details in his mind to reach an easy conclusion: Nova was not human herself and she was afraid of what they would do if they figured it out. She was trying to make herself useful so that they wouldn’t turn on her. Or perhaps it was just her personality to help in any way she could. Honestly, he didn’t care what species was, as long as she could help him get off this rock and back to civilization. Something he recognized as civilization anyway. “Sounds like a plan. What do you need?”

Her face perked with enthusiasm. As if it were a puzzle she were eager to solve. “Some distinguishing characteristics unique to this planet. And I could triangulate our position based on the stars when night falls, even if I can’t find any unique features before then.”

“Then let’s move. You can tell us more about these hunters while we walk.” He didn’t even try to pronounce the species name, it being an insignificant bit of information, while he motioned to the left and they all moved out again; Royce and Isabelle in the lead, with Nova between them, the rest following.

“Alright. What do you want to know?” Nova asked. “What would be relevant information?”

Royce sighed, having to remember that the girl—and that panicked babble had certainly pounded in how young and inexperienced the kid had to be—was a civilian and didn’t understand that even the smallest detail could be significant. “Everything.”

“Oh,” she paused as if gathering her thoughts. “Well, they have familial clans, which are all matriarchal. It’s why they don’t really hunt females all that often. Some clans are in feuds that matter and others aren’t. Like some North American Indian tribes, some yautja clans steal as a type of sport between them—especially the younger ones in the clans as a way to sharpen their skills—while other clans are in blood feuds to the death, though that’s much rarer. Each clan is known for specific things, like different armor or favoring different weapons. Though all of the clans function on a hierarchical caste system for the males. Then there’s the Bad Bloods, the ones that break their laws, which the Arbitrators take care of. But while there isn’t an overarching government, per say, they still have a semi-governing body in the Arbitrators themselves, and each clan has a Council of Elders, and then the females have their own system that work in parallel to, but separate from, the male side. Though the Female Council is hardly ever convened, because they only really get involved if there’s a giant problem that will affect the whole race. They’re the ones who make treaties with other races. Most of the time, if there’s a problem, you go to the clan’s Council, or you can petition an Arbitrator.”

As she spoke, pausing as needed to go over downed trees or over streams, they had moved out of the overwhelming jungle setting and into a more temperate climate. The trees were thinner, paler, though no less tall. The grass and ferns were still waist high. It was just slightly cooler.

“You said they didn’t hunt females,” Mombasa gestured to Nova and Isabelle in askance.

Nova nodded, biting her lip anxiously with a large dollop of confusion. “They really don’t. Unless the female has a weapon and attacks them first. Their honor code forbids it. They don’t hunt the ill, the very young, the very old—unless it’s a hunt to feed themselves, which is when they kill the weakest—or those that can’t defend themselves. They also won’t hunt those that, if removed, would result in the death of another, such as mothers of small children, or pregnant.” She took a breath. “Because of that, since it is more than a little difficult for them to figure out if a female is caring for another, they tend to stay away from females altogether.”

“So they took Isabelle because she is a good predator and has a weapon.”

The redhead sighed. “Or possibly, because they couldn’t tell that she was female.” She winced apologetically at the woman. “Sorry, but they _are_ another species. Sometimes its hard for them to tell different sexes.”

Stans couldn’t help himself. “You could always take off your shirt and expose those pretty titties.”

Nova however, surprised them all by nodding. “Actually, that would help. Since their females do have something akin to breasts to feed their newborns. The reason its so hard for them to differentiate the sexes is because their females are around eight or nine feet average. Much larger than the males.” Then she gestured. “However, that would only really help if Isabelle also took off all her weapons. As long as she has the means to defend herself, its assumed that she has the ability and is thus fair game, worthy prey.”

Isabelle was running this through her mind. “Nova, you are not carrying a weapon.”

“Nor am I pregnant,” Nova agreed with a sigh. “It’s why I’m more than a little worried. Well, one of the reasons.”

“What’re the other reasons?” Royce demanded instantly.

She sighed again. “You are all from different parts of the world…and they brought us here. That just…isn’t done. Especially for humans.”

“Meaning?”

“Humans are…special. They call humans ‘soft meat’, which is a compliment. Humans are intelligent, capable of abstract reasoning, rapid adaptation, and complicated problem solving. So even though Yautja are stronger physically and technologically, they respect humans as combat equals. A lot of the time, they use humans as a training tool for their younger members, to help them learn how to hunt better.” She took a breath. “Which is about the only legitimate reason I can think of for them to bring us to another planet. Usually, to make the hunt more equal, more honorable, they hunt the chosen humans in their own territory. Evens the odds, so to speak.”

“Explain their capabilities,” Royce instructed. “Physical and technological. Weapons. Characteristics.”

“Males hunt. They are about seven feet tall on average, with a high density of muscle mass. The older they get, the bulkier they get. Not fat, just larger. Their skin is denser than ours. You could shoot them a lot and it wouldn’t slow them down long, if at all.”

“Depends on where you aim,” Isabelle murmured.

Nova paused, looking at her with wide eyes for a second before turning back. “True.” She took a breath. “They are primarily carnivorous but will eat vegetation if required. I know females will eat this one fruit at a specific time while gestating because it’s been shown to increase fetal intelligence. However, their culture has catered to advanced biological evolution; enough that they usually only have to eat every couple days or so.

“Their blood is a luminescent phosphor green, which has some interesting properties if we are unlucky enough to be on a _kiande amedhe_ preserve planet. I’m really hoping that’s not the case.” She shivered reflexively as she paused to climb over a log. “It’s also been known to bestow significant healing properties when ingested.

“Their vision is primarily in the infrared spectrum. Easily able to detect heat differentials, but almost impossible to distinguish objects that are the same temperature. They have to have a Bio-Mask when on different planets than their own, since they have a higher nitrogen and methane need, but are also capable of breathing in other atmospheres for short periods of time. Their Bio-Mask will help them filter their vision too though, giving them access to other spectrums of light, or enhancing their own, or filtering it or something. I can’t quite remember. The Bio-Mask is also capable of translating their speech, both heard and spoken, if so required. They can record and play sound bites as well, helping them learn a new language quickly.”

“What about weapons?” Royce prompted when she stopped talking for several minutes.

Nova sighed and continued. “It depends on the hunt. A lot of the time, they’ll cater what weapons they use depending on what they are hunting, or it could be their clan’s preference. I know they’ll use energy and plasma-based weapons on a _kiande amedhe_ hunt, as long as it’s not their first on _chiva_. I know that practically all of them will have a wrist gauntlet that can old up to four blades, but two is more common. They’ll usually have a retractable spear-like thing and a ceremonial dagger of some sort, though each clan has a preferred design. They all have at least one type of ranged weapon, though that varies greatly depending on the hunt and clan.”

She took a breath. “And they all carry a cloaking device that bends light around them. You can see a shimmer in the air when in use. It will create a small shadow on the ground in certain situations. It’ll short out when in contact with a lot of water, or if their gauntlet is damaged, since that is where the power source is located. Though it can also be shorted out if you hit the right spot on their armor.”

Isabelle listened to this description with a growing sense of dread. She swallowed. “1987. Guatemala. A spec ops team went into the jungle. High end. Six men plus a C.I.A. liaison. Only one made it out.” The whole group stopped to look at her as she spoke. “In his debrief, he said they came in contact with something. He gave a detailed description.” She looked at Nova. “Green-brown skin. Mandibles. Black dreadlocks.” Nova nodded, wide-eyed. “It wore some kind of camouflage that adjusted to ambient light. Made it nearly invisible in our spectrum. It could see in infrared; heat signatures. He used mud to block his. That’s how he beat it.” She took a deep breath, looking at all the others. “It hunted and killed his team, one by one.”

Nova nodded again. “It’s what they do. The more trophies they have, the better they look to their females, who might then pick them to mate with and have children. It’s what their whole society is built on.”

“Good God, lady! What _don’t_ you know about these people?” Stans exclaimed.

She blinked at him over Isabelle’s shoulder. “I don’t know why they took me.” Then she swallowed. “Or…I’m not sure.” Royce stopped to look at her with a raised eyebrow, silently demanding an answer. “I think…that I’m bait,” she confessed, “for my guardian. He’s more dangerous than I’ll ever be…” she trailed off as they finally came out of the trees.

They stood on a cliff overlooking rolling hills and valleys of green. However, it was the sky that was the true beautiful sight. A light blue, the large red planet reminiscent to Jupiter was to the right. Above it was an even larger planet of swirling black and white; it took up at least an eighth of the sky. In the distance they could see another planet with its own moon, and finally the sun to their far left. “So pretty,” Nova breathed.

Most of the party stared at the evidence of Nova’s story. Up until that point, they had been skeptical to the point of disbelief in that aliens even existed, let alone that they were on a different planet. However, it was difficult to argue with their own eyes. Thus the group was silent for several minutes as they all absorbed the view and its implications.

Finally, Royce voiced a thought, “Is this enough for you to send a message?”

Nova bit her lip, then hesitantly nodded. “I think so. I’d be more confident if I could see the stars here, but I’m pretty sure I know where we are.”

“How sure is pretty sure?”

“98%?”

“That’s good enough for me. Go ahead.”

Nova took off her jacket and knelt in the grass, using the denim to clear a flattened space on the side of the cliff. When she judged it ready, she reached into her pocket—her arm disappearing up to her elbow as she searched for what she needed, her tongue caught between her lips as she concentrated. “Ah ha!” she yelled as her fingers curled around and pulled out a small hexagonal silver tapered box. “Gotcha!”

Carefully setting it up on the laid jacket, she positioned it precisely in relation to the planets in the sky, then hit a button on the side that the others hadn’t seen. With a small increasing whine of the build up on energy, she waited. Forty-seven seconds later, a white pulse of plasma shot out of the box into the sky. “There. That should do it.” She gathered the box and put it back in her jacket pocket.

“What was that thing?!” Stans yelled.

She blinked over at him. “A long-distance communication relay, capable of sending a short-burst distress signal.” She blinked again in complete confusion. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

“I want to get off this fucking planet!”

She blinked at him again, then looked at Isabelle. “Isn’t’ that what I said?”

Stans groaned loudly, throwing his hands into the air with profound exasperation. “Bitch, you need to learn English!”

Royce ignored him. “So your device will contact your guardian.” She bit her lip, which he was quickly learning meant she was holding back information. “Who _did_ you contact, then?”

Nova looked at her shoes. “I didn’t want him to get hurt. What happened at Demon’s Run hurt him as much as the others. He hated having to become… _that._ ”

“So who did you send the signal to?” Isabelle asked in a no-nonsense tone.

Nova bit her lip and grabbed her braid before finally looking at the pair. “The Arbitrators?”

“Oh shit.” Edwin’s eyes were wide as he half glared at the girl, cleaning his glasses yet again. “Who calls _lawyers_ for a rescue mission?!”


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Dogs

“Oh shit,” Edwin’s eyes were wide as he half glared at the girl, cleaning his glasses yet again. “Who calls _lawyers_ for a rescue mission?!”

Nova grimaced. “Calling Yautja Arbitrators ‘lawyers’ is about the same as calling a banana a plantain. Both are in the same family of fruit, same shape and…” Then she bit her lip and shook her head. “Nope, bad example. Too many similarities.” She contemplated finding a different analogy, then she brightened. “It’s like calling a stonefish a lionfish.” She grinned at the accomplishment. “Both are venomous fish that swim in the ocean, but that is where the similarities end. They don’t look remotely alike, and one is waaay more deadly.” Then she grimaced as she realized what she had done. _Now I really do sound like the Doctor; correcting my own analogy._

“Which is an Arbitrator? A lionfish or a stonefish?” Hanzo asked in his quiet way.

“Stonefish,” Nova answered immediately.

Royce’s facial expression didn’t change as he said, “Stonefish are the most venomous fish known. Why did you call the stonefish?”

Nova tugged on her braid, biting her lip. “My guardian…he’s had companions be hurt and taken before. It… It didn’t end well. For anyone. I didn’t want him to have to become… _that_ again. So, I couldn’t call him. When he gets emotional, bad things happen. I wanted to avoid it.”

“So, you called for the stonefish,” Edwin looked at her with an odd expression. “This implies that you consider your guardian more dangerous than the lawyer.”

The redhead nodded slowly. “I told you before: I _know_ dangerous people. I’m not dangerous myself. It’s why I think that I was brought here as bait. They knew they couldn’t get their hands on him using their normal methods, so they took me, knowing he’d come to them instead.”

Stans was staring at her as if she were insane. “If the ones who took us are lionfish, and the lawyers are stonefish, what’s your guardian?”

Nova blinked at the question. “Ummm…” she hadn’t expected the analogy to go so far. She went through her mental list of ocean life and shook her head. “The only thing I can think of would be the Australian box jellyfish.”

“That is?” Stans shot back at her.

Edwin was the one who answered, “The most venomous marine animal currently known.”

Nova gave them a helpless shrug. “It’s the only thing I can think of that would correlate.” It wasn’t what she usually did; the Doctor was normally the one giving the analogies. “But, it still doesn’t really fit his character. He’s not that dangerous.”

“You said he was more dangerous than the Hunter-Killer aliens that are tracking us to collect bone trophies,” Mombasa said.

“He is…but it’s not because of what you’re thinking. He doesn’t go out _looking_ for people to kill. He gets along with anyone. He’s very understanding and compassionate. He doesn’t judge others without all the details of the situation.”

“Yet, he has killed.”

“Yes,” she nodded sadly, “he hates himself for it, but he knew there was no other choice. To save many, he killed a few. His nickname is The Oncoming Storm, because he doesn’t stop. If they provoke him, then he’ll get justice. He’s been vindictively wrathful a couple times,” she said idly, thinking of the Family of Blood. She shivered at the Time Lord Victorious’ scream of rage echoing through her mind. “He’s even broken his own rules a time or two, trying to do the right thing but ending up making it worse. Becoming what he had sought to destroy.” Then there was the Scary Doctor; the Yet-To-Come Doctor who would destroy _everything_ : the Valeyard. Not if she could help it. The Valeyard hadn’t had her. She wouldn’t leave the Doctor alone. She wouldn’t let the Scary Doctor become anything more than a night terror. “Time can be rewritten,” she whispered the prayer.

She looked up at the others, who were staring at her with various shades; from frank disbelief, to vague horror, to a flat affect. “Travelling with him is…wonderful. You’ll see things that are so beautiful they’ll make you cry. Things that are unbelievable. Things that are amazing and fantastic. I’ve seen him save entire species over and over. I’ve seen him stop whole armies just by walking in a room. I’ve seen him save whole star systems and even the entire universe, once.

“But it can also be terrible. Horrible. I’ve had children die in my arms. A woman gave her life for me and I could only watch. I’ve seen him destroy an entire galaxy. I’ve seen him commit genocide…several times.” Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she spoke, her mind full of memories. “It’s not who he is…and yet, it is. People focus on the aspects they perceive: the healer or the predator. They never understand that both are the same person, and that becoming a predator kills a piece of him every time, because he’s a healer first. Because he never chooses that, he always gives them a chance. They force his hand. He’ll have no choice. Kill a few million in order to save billions. Kill a few billion to save the trillions of species left. He’s so compassionate, that he’ll make the hard choice. The impossible choice. Because he’s the only one who can. The only one who will.” She took a deep breath. “He’s the Doctor… and I couldn’t do that to him again. I couldn’t force him to make the impossible choice. I won’t. Not when I could prevent it.” She brushed away her tears as she ran out of words and marched off, back into the trees. She had to get away from them. She needed space.

Stans summed up what they were all thinking, “I don’t know whether to think she’s the craziest bitch I’ve ever met…or shit my pants.”

+++HUNTING+DREAMS+++

Nova didn’t know what to think, but she knew she needed to get away. Needed space. All their questions and paranoia and disbelief. Looking at her as if she were a liar. “I’m not crazy!” she growled as she stomped through the leaves.

Then a sharp ‘crack!’ and ‘snap!’ jerked her head to the right, looking for the source. She gulped, realizing that she was now alone. _Bad idea. Bad plan._ “Isabelle?” she called out. However, at that same time, Stans began to shout about needing a gun and Nova’s yell went unheard. She turned back, trying to see.

The forest went SILENT.

Nova spun in place, trying to locate the danger. There was only one reason for a natural area to go noiseless: a predator. The bigger the predator, the worse the hush. For such an absolute stillness, it had to be something huge that even the buzzing and clicking of the insects ceased.

She walked forward as soundless as she could, though it wasn’t as quiet as she wished it was the best she could pull off. Given that it wasn’t exactly something she practiced, she didn’t do a half-bad job. However, half-bad was still audible. Deciding that if she couldn’t be silent, she’d be obvious, Nova called out, “Hello?”

There were a bunch of clicks behind her: the distinctive sound of arming guns. Several voices tried to shush her. “Nova, get down!” Isabelle whisper-yelled at her.

Nova took another step forward as shaking branches and snapping twigs told her better the direction of the potential threat. _Just because other people are scared of it, doesn’t mean it’s dangerous,_ she reminded herself. Other than the Doctor, she had met others who were misunderstood to such extremes. The Ly-San-Ter, the Fyrlings, and the Darastrix came to mind. “Hello?” She steadfastly ignored how those species treated those they considered threats.

“Bitch, shut up!” Stans hissed at her.

Out of the trees came…something. Large. Fast. Powerful. Quadrupedal. Thick muscles: built to run. Bilateral symmetry. Skin mottled green-brown-red: blended into the dead leaves and green grass incredibly well. Backward-facing quills along the spine. At least ten. Forward-facing horns. At least eight. Small eyes sunken into skull. Large nostrils. Very sharp teeth. LOTS of very sharp teeth.

Nova couldn’t help herself. She squeaked. Whether from surprise or terror, she wasn’t sure. She’d never seen anything like this before, but given what she knew about the yautja, it was the equivalent to an English hunting dog, back when they still did fox hunting. Its job was to track and flush out prey.

Which explained why, when Nova was too startled to run and instead held her ground, the large yautja hound (she didn’t have a better name right now) slid to a stop in front of her and growled low in its chest. Pinning her in place.

Around and behind her, the others were yelling. Roaring from the hounds. Explosions of gunfire. A part of her brain acknowledged the “Fuck me” someone vehemently commented.

“Run!” Isabelle bellowed. To whom, Nova wasn’t sure, but the redhead knew she didn’t have a chance with this one so close to her.

Able to think of no other recourse, not with it less than six feet away, Nova slowly adopted a crouching position. The hound lowered its muzzle and growled. _Don’t focus on the giant and scary. You’ve met canines and canine derivatives before. Treat it like meeting any other dog._ Nova held out one slightly shaking fist. “Here, boy,” she was amazed that her voice didn’t quaver. It was low and barely above a whisper, but it didn’t stutter. “It’s okay. Are you a good boy?” the more she spoke—the longer it didn’t attack—the more confidence she obtained. “Yes, you’re a good boy. You found me, didn’t you? Such a good boy to find me!” The more her voice became cajoling and persuasive, the more the yautja hound’s body posture relaxed. “If you come here, I’ll give you scritches.” It took one hesitant step forward. “I don’t see your ears, but I bet you have itchy spots I’ll be happy to scratch for you.” Another step. “That’s a good boy. There we go.” Another step and its nose was directly in front of her clenched fist, inhaling deeply to get her scent. “Good boy!” She waited long seconds, keeping up the puppy-talk, until the huge hound stepped forward to nose her arm, then her neck. With her other hand, she reached forward around the face spikes to begin scratching. When it breathed in her hair, she giggled. “That tickles!”

The suddenness of her movement made it jerk back slightly, but it didn’t move anything except its head. A moment later, it moved its head back into place and she continued to scratch. “Who’s a good boy?” she continued to coo. “You are. Yes, you are.” In a great feat of trust, the yautja hound rubbed its snout on her shoulder, scrapping her with its face spikes slightly, but she didn’t do more than wince. It wasn’t its fault. It probably had never interacted with someone like this before. Yautja weren’t exactly known for hugs and cuddles. “There we go! You’re such a good b—"

A sharp CRACK pierced the air.

Warm, wet liquid sprayed over Nova’s face, chest, and arms.

The hound in her arms collapsed onto its side, unmoving.

Nova’s eyes saw, but her mind refused to register the dark-red blood and grey-black brain matter. “Wha—?” She turned to the left where the shot must have originated and saw Isabelle tossing aside her (presumably empty) sniper rifle. Edwin was up a tree behind her. Isabelle began to empty the clip of a small handgun into the yautja hound advancing on her. Then brought the gun to her own temple, willing to kill herself than face a potentially worse death.

A whistle pierced the air and all the hounds froze. The signal came twice more, calling the pets back to their masters.

A pause as the others caught their breath. “Reload. Do it now,” Royce ordered. They all obeyed.

Nova looked back down at the animal, dead before her. Her knees stopped holding her and she collapsed backwards onto the leaves, tears began. She didn’t know how much time had passed when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Nova? Are you injured?” Isabelle.

Nova looked up at her, the woman she had thought was the most honorable of the whole group. Her voice cracked as she asked, “Why’d you do that?”

Isabelle went down on one knee. She knew that trauma and shock could mess with someone’s head. Especially a civilian. “Are you alright?” she tried again.

“Why’d you kill him?” Nova pleaded, tears rolling down her face.

“He was going to kill you,” Isabelle said patiently.

“No he wasn’t! He was a good boy. He wasn’t hurting me at all. He just wanted scritches!” Nova petting the yautja hound’s nose as she cried.

“You crazy bitch,” Stans sneered. “It was going to eat you!”

“It was incredibly aggressive,” Edwin agreed.

“That wasn’t its fault. He was a pet. He was trained that way! It wasn’t his fault. You didn’t have to kill him. He just wanted scritches.” Nova sobbed over the dead animal. “You didn’t have to kill him. He was a good boy. He just wanted scritches.”

The others stared at the weeping redhead in astonishment. To their eyes, they had just barely survived an attack by killer not-dogs. Yet here was this woman, a _civilian_ , who didn’t seem to be hurt at all, crying over what had meant to eat her. Close enough to smell its breath! Close enough that she was covered in a mist of its blood and brains. Still, she sobbed over what she perceived was an unnecessary death. Crying over what had meant to kill her.

Mombasa muttered something that sounded like it could have been a prayer. Hanzo gave a short bow. (Whether in respect of the animal or the girl, he didn’t say.) Edwin and Royce stared. Isabelle put one arm around Nova, giving as much comfort as she was able given the circumstances. “I’m sorry,” she whispered directly in the redhead’s ear, low enough the others couldn’t hear.

Stans however, had no qualms saying what was on his disbelieving mind, “You _are_ a crazy bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one-shot is turning into multiple chapters. Oh well. I write when I can. Post what I’ve got. I’m using both memory, imagination, and the 2nd draft of the script to help me write. No beta, all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think, but don’t be too harsh. I know it isn’t perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to gauge reactions to this idea. The less response I have, the less chance I'll finish it. So comment please!


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